Captivated

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Captivated Page 18

by Susan Scott Shelley


  Brendan leaned forward in his seat. “You were too quiet during the trip. What happened?”

  So much for hiding it. “I told Dom I couldn’t see him anymore.”

  Her brother’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Because the band needs my full focus. Everything that went wrong happened while I was distracted by my relationship with him.”

  “You’re kidding, right? We were fighting before you got involved with him.”

  She shook her head. “But all the really bad stuff happened afterward.”

  Luke lowered his sunglasses and fixed her with his blue-eyed stare. “We’re all adults. We’re responsible for our own actions. None of the stupid things I or anyone else did were your fault.”

  “Maybe they wouldn’t have happened if I’d been paying you more attention. I can’t help feeling responsible. I could’ve prevented the bar fight. I would’ve gone to the interview.”

  “Can’t guarantee that.” Brendan gave her a smile. “You could’ve been in the restroom when the first fight happened, and you could’ve missed the interview if you’d been sick. No matter what you do, there’s no way to make sure everything will be smooth. You’re allowed to have a personal life.”

  Zander nodded. “You were happy with Dom. I’d rather see you happy than resenting us down the line because you missed out on something good with him.”

  “But with everything that’s happened, we need to make sure nothing else goes wrong. I need to be in my usual all band, all the time mode.”

  He handed over the sunglasses. “You were popping meds because of your all band, all the time mode. I was an idiot for not seeing it. Maybe I’m a perfectionist with music, and you are with, well, everything else. But we all should’ve insisted on you sharing the workload, no matter how hard you fought to handle it all yourself.”

  “You guys have to handle the music and the fans, and you get so caught up in it and lose track of everything else… And Brendan’s even worse with remembering about being on time for things, and Luke and Landry—”

  Landry held up his hand. “Luke and Landry aren’t helpless. We’re not as lost in our own world as Zander.”

  “Hey, I managed to handle the flight and car for this trip, didn’t I?” Zander leaned forward and cuffed the back of the bassist’s head. “And I didn’t say things would be perfect. If something gets messed up, it gets messed up. That’s why you also need an assistant. Someone like Jayne who double- and triple-checks things.” He glanced at Luke. “But maybe not actually Jayne—not right now, anyway.”

  Luke turned toward the window. “Don’t let me stand in the way. I’ll deal with it…better than I did before.”

  That would remain to be seen. Irisa hoped it could work out. She nudged his shoulder. “Any news on Seth?”

  He nodded. “Griffin texted me. Seth’s awake, and going to do a lengthy rehab stay once he gets out of the hospital.”

  “I’m glad he’s okay. Hopefully he’ll get the help he needs.” She patted his arm, then twisted toward Zander. “So what are we going to say to Vance, anyway?”

  His mouth formed a grim line. “Leave it to me.”

  Irisa took one look at the gated estate and figured they had zero chance of getting inside. But in the span of under five minutes, Zander had managed for them to gain access.

  The front door swung open. Vance DuBrow stood before them. Gray hair slicked back, tinted glasses perched low on his nose, and dressed for a golf game in a yellow polo and plaid shorts. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

  This early in the morning, she could forgive the sarcasm.

  Zander crossed his arms over his chest. “When you have your lackey tell my sister that she needs to resign from being band manager or you’re going to kick us off the tour, you can bet I’m going to have a problem with that.”

  Luke flanked her other side. “We all have a problem with that.”

  Vance gestured for them to come inside, and they crowded into the foyer. “I’ve always liked you guys, but lately you’ve been in the spotlight for the wrong reasons.”

  “Lately, we’ve had some extenuating circumstances.” Landry stood shoulder to shoulder with Luke.

  “Here’s the thing, Vance.” Zander’s tone commanded attention. “We’re a package deal. My sister stays. I’m sure you thought about the money. If you kick us off, you can expect the fans to be pissed and for sales to fall. But if you’re ready to do that, then we’re ready to part ways completely.”

  “You can’t walk away. You owe Excite one more album.”

  “Then throw together a greatest hits collection for all we care. You won’t get any new music from us. If you’re so ready to wash your hands of us…” He shrugged and let the threat hang in the air.

  Lips pressed together, Vance stared at them for a long moment, stroking his chin. “I expect you to be straight with me. Have those extenuating situations you mentioned been cleared up?”

  Irisa looked at the guys, but mainly Luke. They nodded. “Yes.”

  “I have your word that nothing else will happen?”

  She stepped forward, ready to defend her band, and ready to assume responsibility for them. “You’ve known us for ten years. That should count for something.”

  He gave her a slight nod. “All right. Then you can stay on the tour.”

  “With Irisa.” Zander raised his brow.

  “With Irisa,” Vance confirmed.

  Zander laid his hand on her shoulder. “One more thing. I don’t want us to have to deal with Oliver anymore.”

  “Why?”

  “He oversteps a lot, and he makes my sister uncomfortable. I’m not okay with my sister being uncomfortable.”

  Her brother’s words made her smile. He was always in her corner. Tension seeped out of her muscles.

  “Fine. Done.” Vance glanced at her, and then his gaze spanned the rest of the group. “Anything else?”

  “We didn’t eat on the plane.” Brendan flashed a smile meant to melt any resistance. “I’m a little hungry.”

  Irisa stifled a groan. “Brendan, we’re not making Vance feed us. We’ll get something at the airport.” She extended her hand to Vance. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and returned the shake. “I expect a decent report on the next show.”

  “You’ll get one.”

  They made their goodbyes. When they returned to the car, they celebrated. High fives and hugs all around.

  She pulled away from Luke and climbed into the car. “Guys, promise me, no more drama. Please?”

  Brendan patted her hand and nodded. “No more until the next tour. Now let’s find breakfast.”

  They arrived at the airport an hour before their flight and loaded up on coffee and breakfast sandwiches. The guys were joking and getting along, just like old times. She smiled, and tried to join in, but her heart was still focused on Dom.

  Zander looked up from his phone. “Hey, why didn’t you tell us about Dom’s suspension?”

  Her blood turned to ice. She dropped her sandwich onto her plate. “What suspension?”

  “Here’s the official word from the team. The Riptide suspended him for the rest of the season for conduct detrimental to the team and charged him a fifty-thousand-dollar fine. Their manager said he won’t have a team deserter or a bar brawler on his team.”

  Pangs of guilt killed her appetite. Urgent energy tingled along her spine. She moved into damage-control mode. “Deserter? I thought he had permission to leave the game. I have to fix it. It’s my fault.” She grabbed her phone. “I’ll call their GM.”

  Landry laughed. “There’s no way you’re getting that guy on the phone.”

  Fifteen minutes later, she wanted to heave her phone out the window. “All I could do was leave a message for their PR department.” She paced the space in front of their seats. “That’s not enough.”

  Zander pulled out his phone and swiped the screen. “I exchanged numbers with some of the players that night at dinner. T
hey might be able to help you.”

  She pressed her lips together. “Not if they hate me for dragging Dom into my drama.”

  “Only one way to tell.” He lifted the phone to his ear. “Hey, Adam. It’s Zander. My sister’s trying to get a hold of Ramon Sanchez. Can you help her out?”

  Irisa watched his face, holding her breath.

  “Sure. Hold on.” Zander’s gaze met hers. “He wants to talk to you.”

  Dread welled in her gut. She reached for her antacids and came up empty. “Hi, Adam.”

  “You wanted Ramon’s number?”

  “I just found out about Dom’s punishment. It isn’t fair. I need to try and fix it. It’s all my fault, and it’s affecting the rest of your team, too. I’m so sorry.”

  “Have you talked to him?”

  “Not since last night.” And their awful conversation. “When did he find out about the suspension?”

  “Yesterday. He had a meeting with Ramon and Dusty after the game. Listen, he’ll be ticked off I’m telling you this, but I just saw him and he’s miserable, and not only about baseball. Whatever happened between you guys, please work it out. You made him happy.”

  Happy? Yeah, right. So happy that he’d lost out on baseball. Because of her. Her eyes burned with fresh tears. “I want what’s best for him, and that’s obviously a life without me in it.”

  She couldn’t talk anymore. Blindly handing the phone to Zander, she sank onto her seat.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  A harsh laser of sunlight beamed over his face. Dom raised his hand to block out the light streaming into his bedroom. A night alone with a bottle of scotch hadn’t been his smartest decision. Then again, he hadn’t made many smart decisions lately.

  A crash in the living room bolted him to sitting. His aching head protested the movement.

  “Damn it. Champ, what did you do?” Rubbing his temples, he swung his legs over the mattress.

  Voices and barking echoed back at him.

  “What the hell?” If they were intruders, they weren’t the quietest. He grabbed the baseball bat leaning against the wall and crept into the hall. Eggs, bacon, and coffee scented the air. He rounded the corner and nearly smacked into Slade.

  “Whoa. Dude, what are you doing?” His friend raised his hands to ward off the hit. “This isn’t the time for batting practice.”

  Dom’s heartbeat settled. He set the bat on the floor. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Good, you’re awake.” Liam tucked a broom and trash bag into a corner, then turned toward the kitchen. “He’s up.”

  Adam came in, holding a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, and toast. Champ pranced close behind. “Sit down and eat. You have a date with Ramon in an hour.”

  Dom rubbed his temples. “What are you talking about?”

  Slade held out his phone. Sure enough, there was a voice mail from Ramon and a text from his agent. “It’s all over social media. I tried calling you. When you didn’t answer, we thought we should come over.”

  Dom staggered to the thankfully full coffee pot. “He wants to meet with me?”

  Adam took away the coffee and handed him a glass of water and two aspirin. “Have this first.”

  “Thanks.” He downed the water and the pills, then reached for his coffee mug but Liam grabbed it and brought it over to the table.

  “Stop playing Keep Away with my coffee.”

  “Sit. Eat while we fill you in.”

  “Fine.” He secured the mug in his hand and dug into the eggs. “How long have you been here?”

  “Long enough to walk Champ and make your breakfast. By the way, Adam broke a lamp.”

  “I did not. Champ knocked into it.”

  “Yeah, but you were playing with him when it happened.” Liam snagged a slice of toast from the plate. “That stuff never happens on my watch.”

  “Keep it up and I’ll be looking for a new dog sitter.”

  “No way. Bear loves me.”

  “There’s no accounting for taste.” He turned to Dom. “I’ll replace the lamp.”

  “I don’t care about the lamp. What’s going on with Ramon?”

  Slade pushed his phone across the table. “Irisa sent out a message yesterday, asking anyone who was at the bar to share photos or video proving you didn’t have anything to do with the fight.”

  A bite of toast stuck in Dom’s throat. Coughing, he reached for his coffee. “She did that?”

  “Yeah. And the response was crazy.” Adam took the seat to his left. “I don’t know if it helped that we all shared her request, too. Dusty will probably have us running the stairs at the stadium for getting involved.”

  “I thought the guys were all pissed at me.” He wouldn’t easily forget their accusing glares and muttered comments.

  Adam shrugged. “Not as much now. The guys who have wives and girlfriends understand.”

  “Anyway,” Liam continued, “the Riptide fans saw the info and started a media campaign to get Ramon to reconsider his suspension decision. They crashed the team website with all of their messages, too.”

  A seed of hope sprouted. Dom pushed away the plate and grabbed the phone he’d silenced the day before. Scrolling through the messages of well-wishes and support lightened his dark mood. Then he saw Irisa’s post.

  His heart beat uncomfortably in his chest. She didn’t want anything to do with him, but she was trying to save his job. “So Ramon called a meeting. Doesn’t mean he’ll change his mind. For all I know, he’s doing this for show to get the fans off his back.”

  Adam shrugged. “So you’ll dress nice, be respectful, and tell him you appreciate the meeting.”

  “Yes, Dad.” Dom ducked the napkin hurled at his head.

  “Shut up. I want you back in the lineup. I don’t like having an empty locker next to mine.”

  “And I miss pretending Champ belongs to me. It’s great for meeting women.” Liam rolled a tennis ball across the floor to the dog. “You need to get back on the road with the team.”

  “Really,” Slade added. “Because Nokes is okay, but he’s not you. The team needs you.”

  Dom looked from Adam to Liam to Slade. They’d always been there for him. “Thanks.” The word seemed inadequate but hopefully they understood the feeling behind them.

  “You’d do the same for us.” Slade pushed his plate closer. “Now hurry up and eat.”

  Liam refilled his coffee. “We have a meeting to win.”

  An hour later, Dom waited inside Ramon’s office. Liam, Adam, and Slade sat on either side of him. Support, or maybe they were worried what he’d do if the GM didn’t change his mind. Either way, their banter was a welcome distraction.

  Finally, Ramon came into the room. “Dom.” He nodded at him, then raised his brow at the three other men sprawled in chairs. “Gentlemen.”

  Dom stood. “Thanks for meeting with me.” In the corner of his vision, he could see Adam nod in approval.

  “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

  His stomach sank. “While I appreciate what everyone has done on my behalf, I was responsible for my actions and I don’t expect any special treatment or consideration.”

  Ramon settled behind his desk. “I received a phone call from Ms. Rostov yesterday. She pleaded your innocence. For obvious reasons, I couldn’t go by her word alone.”

  Dom nodded. Not that they had a personal relationship anymore.

  “But when the photos and videos surfaced, I knew further review was needed. I apologize for not digging for more evidence when the incident happened. Your track record this season clouded my common sense.”

  He didn’t expect any apology. “I appreciate that, sir.”

  “I have a wife and a daughter, and I would’ve done the same thing if I thought they were in harm’s way. But, regardless of the reason, you still walked out on a game. I’m lifting the suspension, but you’re still benched for the upcoming series with the Storm, and you’re still charged with the fine.”

&
nbsp; Relief rushed through him. Elation. “Thank you.”

  Liam and Adam high-fived each other and Slade pumped his fist in the air.

  Ramon glanced at them. “I have a fair idea of how Ms. Rostov obtained my home number, but I’ll let that slide.”

  “Let’s go celebrate.” Liam jumped to his feet, then looked at Ramon. “But we’ll do it quietly and away from any drinking establishment.”

  A smile cracked the GM’s features. “Get out of here, boys.”

  Dom extended his hand across the desk. “Again, thank you.”

  Ramon returned the shake. “That woman loves you. Make sure you thank her, too.”

  The drive home was full of cheers and happy conversation. When they reached his lobby, the doorman handed him a large package. Dom glanced at the return address as they rode to his floor. His parents’ address, and his dad’s handwriting. What were they sending him?

  He nodded to the guys. “Get a head start on the celebration. I’ll be right back.” He took the box to his bedroom. Peeled off layers of tape, and discovered thick books, encased in bubble wrap. A note lay on top.

  Dom,

  I’ve been thinking a lot about our last conversation. You may be right about some things, but I want you to realize I’ve always pushed you because I’ve seen your potential and I’ve only wanted the best for you. I’ve been keeping these scrapbooks of your career ever since you went two for three in your first little league game, all the way up to the last game you played. I’ll need it back so I can keep adding to it, but I wanted you to see it. I’m damn proud of you.

  Keep your eye on the ball,

  Dad

  He eyed the leather-bound books. He’d played in hundreds of games since little league. He ruffled through the pages. Newspaper clippings, every baseball card he’d ever been on, printouts of web pages, and ticket stubs from games. Memories surfaced with every picture. He held a treasure in his hand, crafted by the man he thought he’d never pleased.

  He was touched. Surprised. Stunned.

  Feeling like the worst son in the world for what he’d said, Dom called his dad. As soon as he heard the familiar hello, he launched right in. “I got the package. I don’t know what to say.” He shifted, uncomfortable. “I always figured you weren’t proud of anything I did.”

 

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